Who can prosper under the weight of bearing that Grudge?
For the bearer curses twice with his emotional sludge.
First to himself, and then to the other,
a bounty of blessings this practice does smother.

I, who am born to drink this cup of fire
of molten knowledge of whom many inquire,
have found from my studies of men long past,
that virtues extolled are the things that last.

We now see but shadows of virtue revealed,
its clarity of Truth from us now has been sealed,
until that great day when that seal He will break,
and men from their nebulous contemplations awake,
to see with a clarity never known on this earth...
save One who was born of a ****** birth,
who gives men His virtue and knowledge to see.
We the captives of Plato's cave now are set free,
to rise to our Maker, and that of the stars,
and rest in His arms, in the heavenly cars.

Wisdom; who can say for certain, "you are mine"?

Wisdom; who has you tethered by their side?

Wisdom; you peek out from behind a hill, "come a bit further" you call.

During calamity, you are always there to entertain my rejection, I do not disappoint.
I do this often, yet you are there with open arms.
I walk toward you, you are walking too with measured distance.
Must you lead and I follow? When is it my turn?
How do I grasp you? You are much stronger than I.
I must keep walking! I must keep walking.

Pleasure; whose surly bonds tighten with each fervent embrace.

Once I shone glorious like a morning star,
my arrogance denied a fall quite so far.
given such radiance of heaven's renown,
who else more worthy to wear His high crown?
With crafty intent and whispered ambition,
my minions are spreading to hold my position of mutiny mad, dereliction of duty, I still
hear the comments about my great beauty.
This war with his angels, not going as planned,
I think I'll rule elsewhere, my time is at hand.
I wasn't cast down, I left on my own,
I'll wait just a while to ascend His high throne.
Mankind my new playground, my easiest coup,
I'll offer him feasting and pleasures anew.
I see he's in trouble, forbidden to eat,
the sweetest of fruits that lay at my feet.
I'll nurture his hunger to voracious desire,
these lust-hungry fools shall build my empire.
Their gluttony blinds them, they will drink and feast,
they'll not know their fine chef is truly the beast,
that roams through the earth for souls to devour,
they drink at my table and give me more power.
Oh how they worship what I have to give,
I hide my dark face, so they will not live,
to see how His highest of disciples does float,
I want you down here, engorged with my bloat;
to founder amongst flaming souls who are lost,
rebellion to Him must come at such cost.
Then in chains I'm bound, as to his angels' sworn duty,
I'll no longer hear comments about my great beauty.
When in blackness we broil for all the ages to see,
for this has been willed, where what is willed shall be.

Tender are the hands of Hope, to gently heal the wounded souls of mortals.